


Turnera diffusa

by a_big_apple



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Trans Character, F/M, Light Bondage, Magically Transitioned, Okay there's a tiny bit of plot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, Stolen Century, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22029814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_big_apple/pseuds/a_big_apple
Summary: On a plane much like their home, the twins discover a rare plant with several interesting qualities; one of which, Lup knows from experience, is aphrodisiacal pollen. It's about time she and Barry had another date night....This 100% purely indulgent sexcapade is brought to you by the Fandom Trumps Hate auction, and by my high bidder Prim who requested Blupjeans smut and gave me a few delightful kink prompts.
Relationships: Barry Bluejeans/Lup
Comments: 16
Kudos: 130
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2019





	Turnera diffusa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prim_the_Amazing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/gifts).



> Prim, I hope this lives up to your every expectation after how long it took me to finish it! <3

Some of the planes they land on are just completely alien, unfamiliar and unpredictable in every way. Those years can be hard, trying to adapt and learn the rules, and discovering new and surprising ways to die. The planes that are more like their home, though, more familiar...those are a subtler mindfuck.

Six months in and they still don’t have the Light, the world is just a little bit _off_ from the one they lost, and Lup is strung tighter than her violin. Barry’s been sweet, so _sweet_ because he can tell she’s losing her cool; she appreciates the effort, but sweet doesn’t distract her from the lingering grief, doesn’t redirect the frustration and anxiety of the search. She doesn’t know what _will_ help, until she’s out with Taako searching on foot in the murky dark of a heavy-canopied forest, and they find the corellonia.

“Oh hey,” Taako says, and points; at first she just sees the same patchwork of wild ginger and crawling honeysuckle and seedlings dropped from the trees above that they’ve been picking their way through all morning. Then Taako nudges her arm and points again. “There, the yellow. Not the honeysuckle,” he says, cutting her off before she even opens her mouth. Then she spots it: a bush of narrow, dark green leaves dotted with bright yellow flowers, hidden half behind a tree.

“Holy shit,” she says, staring at it.

Taako steps off the animal trail they’ve been following and ventures into the undergrowth. “Think it’s worth as much here as it was back home?”

Lup slowly grins. “One way to find out.” Taako turns and grins back.

“Hell yeah.”

***

They bring the whole bush back to the Starblaster, roots and all, and Merle re-plants it for them in a pot transmuted from the keg they brought home from a bender in cycle 24.

“What is it?” Lucretia asks, looking curious and suspicious at once.

“Good old _Turnera diffusa_ ,” Merle proclaims, dirty hands on his hips. Then he waggles his eyebrows. “Looks like the _aphrodisiaca_ varietal.”

“Gross, Merle.”

Davenport leans in, moustache twitching. “Smells familiar. Isn’t it used in some kind of liqueur?”

“Oh,” Barry says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Where I grew up it was called Elfnip. Is that racist?”

“A little, babe,” Lup admits, breaking off a leaf to crush it in her fingers; it smells sharp, like the burn of alcohol in your throat.

“Who gives a fuck, Barold,” Taako counters. “It’s _corellonia_. Pretty rare, hella expensive, at least back home.”

“Fascinating,” Lucretia says, crouching beside the pot; she’s already sketched out a shockingly accurate botanical drawing. “So, what is it actually used for?”

“The ground bark’s an aromatic, and the stems and leaves do make a rad liqueur,” Taako replies, shooting finger guns at Davenport, “and the—”

“The flowers make _sex pollen—_ ”

“GROSS, MERLE!”

“—and the fruit is a super valuable potion component, especially in elf culture. For, like, body transmutations and stuff,” Taako finishes.

Lucretia glances up at Lup consideringly. “Oh?”

Lup grins and grabs her own chest in her hands. “Yep, these beauties are one hundo percent Corellon’s Cordial!”

Lucretia blushes but barks out a laugh; when Lup looks over at Barry he seems lost in thought, twirling a yellow flower between finger and thumb.

***

The twins spent years searching and trading and working and swindling to find enough corellonia fruit for the potion, back in their forties. Lup’s body felt more alien every day; in the end Taako stole a bag from a black market dealer while Lup made a distraction with barely-controlled fire magic, and they ran for two days before they felt safe enough to rest.

Much later, in their wild hundred-and-tens before the IPRE, Lup splurged on what she thought was an ounce of ground corellonia bark as a gift for Taako. She couldn’t resist tasting a generous pinch before wrapping it up, but it seemed off; she woke up three days later locked in their bedroom wearing nothing but a scrunchie on her wrist and her left sock. There was a bottle of water and two oranges on the nightstand between their beds, and when she rolled that way she found her favorite dildo wedged under her hip.

Taako mercifully didn’t say anything when she emerged bleary and wrapped in a sheet, just ran her a bath and made her sweet noodle casserole for dinner.

“I found that spice bottle you left on the table,” he said as they ate. “Tried to get corellonia bark, huh?”

Lup stabbed some noodles with her fork, face reddening. “Koko, please.”

“Sweet thought. It was pollen though.”

“Yeah, _I figured that out_.”

Taako rested his chin in his hand, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I went down to Canal Street and traded the rest for a better silence charm for the bedroom door. Of all the times for you to be single…”

Lup buried her face in her hands. “ _Taako_.”

He finally broke, bursting into wheezing laughter.

***

The corellonia is valuable on this plane, as it turns out, valuable enough to cultivate in case they need something to trade for the Light. Lup takes careful cuttings to sell, and Taako judiciously trims bark to dry and leaves to soak in alcohol. Merle, in a process nobody wants to be present for, makes sure the plant is carefully self-pollinated. “Cross-pollination would be a surer thing,” he tells the crew over dinner, after much shouting and plugging of ears through the details, “but since we’ve only got the one, I had to lean a little on Pan’s grace.”

With bated breath they wait to see if it will produce; finally Lup, restless and wakeful in the early dawn, finds that the bright yellow flowers have started to wither and drop overnight. Behind each loosening blossom is the green swell of a tiny fruit. She watches for a while, as if the plant will change further while she stands there, until her stomach starts to growl.

While she starts the coffee and breakfast, she thinks about how different her and Taako’s lives would have been if they’d had the luck to find a corellonia in the wild at home, had the time and knowledge and wherewithal to care for one. She whisks eggs and thinks about how hard this cycle has been hitting them, hitting her, even though her life is objectively both better and stranger than it ever was before. While the bacon is frying, she thinks about the velvety flowers, wrinkling in on themselves, their usefulness nearly over. When she hears her crewmates start to stir, roused by the smell of food, she sweeps the fallen blossoms onto a sheet of parchment paper, twists it closed and tucks it in her pocket before any of them can see.

***

Every morning she collects the fallen blossoms; no one asks or wonders where they went except for Merle, who plucks a few right from the branch “to study,” and Taako, who looks at her like he knows Lup is taking them and pointedly doesn’t question it. She shakes the pollen free from the blooms carefully, examines it in the lab; she tells Taako she’s staying with Barry and Barry she’s sleeping over with Taako, and instead locks herself in the unused room that was originally meant to be hers. Just the smallest bit at first, to test, makes her flushed and wet almost instantly; she comes in minutes, barely touching herself, just thinking about taking more.

It takes her a few tries to work out the proper dosage and delivery system, and another day to extrapolate a conservative dose for Barry’s faster human metabolism; then at last she leaves the ship and heads into town. The place they’re now docked is quaint, a mountainous countryside full of antique shops and secluded getaways. They’ve had no luck finding the Light here and will soon have to move on, but it’s easy as cobbler to find a bungalow in the woods she can rent for the night.

When she gets back to the ship, she finds Barry in the lab at his usual station, surrounded by cups of coffee gone cold and a third of a sandwich abandoned from lunch. She closes the door behind her, and he looks up at the click. He smiles, quiet and warm. “Finished your errand?”

“Yep,” she says, and kisses his cheek before perching on the stool next to his. “Got a hot date all set up tonight.”

Barry grins at her. “Yeah? With who?”

She matches his grin, poking at his side where he’s a little ticklish; he swats at her hand and laughs. “Just some nerd, but he’s good in the sack.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

“Hell yeah. But seriously, babe,” she says, letting up on his side and looping her arm through his. “How do you feel about mind alteration? In a bedroom way?”

Barry blinks at her, taking this in, and she can see a flush starting to rise up his neck and in his cheeks. “I’ve...never tried it. But I feel good about it. I trust you.”

The tiniest little part of Lup that was uncertain, the part she’s been steadfastly ignoring for days, finally eases as he finds her hand and wraps her fingers in his. She leans in, catches his mouth in a slow kiss that makes his eyelashes flutter against her skin. Barry sighs out softly through his nose and presses closer and somehow she never gets tired of this, the heat of his mouth and his tongue sliding against hers. Reluctantly she pulls back, lifting a hand to cup his jaw. “Hold that thought, okay?” she murmurs against his lips, and he hums an affirmation. “Go take a shower. Maybe a nap. I’m gonna help Taako with dinner and pack us a bag.”

His eyes are dark when he pulls away, rings of deep-ocean blue eclipsed by widening pupils, and he turns his face in her hand to kiss the tips of her fingers.

***

She does _try_ to help Taako with dinner, but she’s just so keyed up. The last few cycles have been hard; this one has been okay so far, but the strain of decades and the promise of the night to come are crashing together in her chest like warm and cold weather fronts. She’s distracted, her hands are shaky, and Taako’s too fucking observant for his own good.

“Oh, get out!” he finally tells her, shooing her away from the saucepot she just spilled too much basil into. “You’re useless to me. _Please_ just let me pack you a basket and the two of you can go...get an early start.” He gives her a long-suffering scowl. “And remember to keep your blood sugar up or that pollen will fucking wreck you. If you come back liches I’m never speaking to you again.”

Lup scrubs her jittery hands over her face, then squeezes Taako’s shoulders and kisses his cheek. “Thanks bud.”

“Yeah yeah. Get it sis, but also _ugh_.”

***

They slip out quietly before dinner, a duffel bag and picnic basket between them, to avoid a pre-date round of teasing. They’ll surely get some obnoxious whoops and kissing noises when they return, because Taako will blab at least the basic information, but that’s an inevitable part of dating while living in the pockets of five other people for decades.

It’s better, being outside in the fresh air. It’s better with Barry’s hand in hers, warm and a little sweaty as they walk past the town and out into the woods, toward the rented bungalow.

“So, the correlonia,” he says under the quiet of the trees. She squeezes his hand.

“What do you want to know?”

“Maybe just...what to expect? Or, what to be careful of?”

“It’s...encompassing,” she says, swinging the basket on her arm. “Humans have a faster metabolism, so it’ll hit you quicker and harder, and be over sooner. You might not remember the whole thing in the morning, but you’ll be aware enough for colors, for a little talking. It can be overwhelming, maybe. But it’s worth it, to...to just surrender, and let it pull you under for a while. I’ve only taken it once,” she admits, “by accident, and by myself. But the bits and pieces I remember are good.”

He lifts their hands to kiss her knuckles, smiling. “Like I said, I trust you. I like the idea of...losing a little control.”

“Yeah?” she says, grinning back at him; his cheeks and ears are tinged with red.

“Yeah,” he replies, a low rasp of arousal. Then he winds their fingers together more tightly. “Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

***

The bungalow is cozy and clean, and most importantly, secluded. Lup locks and wards the doors and windows the minute they enter, then takes the picnic basket to the kitchen while Barry finds the bedroom. Taako’s packed them neatly swirled portions of spaghetti and meatballs, with little balls of fresh mozzarella cheese for Lup. Those go into the icebox for later, when their energy is all expended; the rest of the basket is filled with oranges and grapes, a rainbow of sliced sweet peppers, fresh crusty dinner rolls. There are two glass bottles of water, one with slices of cucumber floating at the bottom, the other with slices of strawberry. Lup definitely does not want to spend another minute of this evening thinking about her twin brother, but the obvious care he put into the basket makes her smile anyway.

She peels the oranges, plucks the grapes off the stem, puts all the snacks into bowls and takes the lot into the bedroom. It’s as small and quaint as the rest of the place, dark raw-edged wood and dainty floral wallpaper, with crisp white sheets and a heavy quilt turned down on the bed. Barry has already unpacked most of their bag, clothes folded on the dresser, toiletry bags set out, lube on the bedside table. He’s also unpacked the rope.

It’s silky, like curtain ties, and black as a starless sky. She bought it for them on the last world, and they’ve played with it once or twice since, but not enough for her to be sure Barry would want it now; still, she packed it coiled at the bottom of the bag, a suggestion. A suggestion he’s taken, looped between and around the bedposts, slack but promising against the bright sheets. He smiles when he sees her taking in the setup, face flushed, and takes the food from her with a kiss. “I think we’re about as ready as we can be,” he says, placing their snacks and water in easy reach and then taking her hand. “Do you...should we get undressed?”

“Not yet,” she says, winding their fingers together. “I wanna unwrap you. Just need one thing first.” From her toiletry bag on the dresser she retrieves a compact mirror and a tube of lipstick. The mirror she hands to Barry, and he holds it open in his free hand; with hers, she pops the cap off the lipstick and wiggles it back and forth with a grin.

Barry blinks, then grins. “Oh. That’s...that’s clever. I guess I’ll have no choice but to kiss you a whole lot, huh?”

“What a shame,” Lup drawls, and sweeps vibrant red color across her lips.

***

She’s barely gotten Barry out of his undershirt when she starts to feel it, a flush, an ache, a little bit of dreamy lightheadedness. She tugs gently at his chest hair, and the way he groans makes her think he’s starting to feel it too. Her lipstick is smeared across his mouth and the pulse point of his neck. Barry tugs and she wriggles to get an arm out of her dress, to pull it down enough for Barry to cup her breast in his warm hand and pluck gently at her nipple. It’s a shock, electric, more sensitive than she expected, and he watches her with intense focus as she pants through her surprise. She presses closer in his lap, skirt hiked up, to roll her hips against the hard line of his cock inside his jeans. It’s terrible that he’s still wearing jeans; the friction is intensely good, but she wants more of his _skin_ , the blood-hot length of him against her, inside her—

He whines her name when she tears herself away, moans faintly and presses his hips into her hands as she furiously tugs his fly open and pulls pants and boxers off him. His cock is rosy pink and leaking and bobs up appealingly when it’s free of his clothes, and he grasps it and squeezes with a shuddering breath. Gently Lup rubs her hands up and down his splayed thighs. “Color?” she asks, and he licks his lips.

“Green.” His eyes are all dark pupil, drawing her in as he breathes; then he surges forward like the slow roll of a wave, pressing her back onto the bed, sliding his hands along her skin to push her dress up and off. She wriggles out of it, and even that feels good, so she writhes luxuriously under his fingers and his soft belly and his furry thighs.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes, and leans down to kiss her. His mouth is everything, for a moment—every thought in her head, filling every sense, his tongue and his toothpaste breath and the soft sounds in his throat. Then he disappears, leaving her dizzy and bereft; a moment later his fingers are dragging down her legs along with her underwear. “Lup,” he pleads, a question, and even as floaty as she’s feeling she can tell he’s deeper under.

She grabs at his shoulders with her hands, pulls him back in toward her. “Yeah,” she says, breathless. “Inside. Green. _Barry._ ”

He _growls_ , she’s never heard him growl in bed before and her whole body _pangs_ with needing him, and then her legs are up around his back and his cock is pressing into her, an unyielding surge of pleasure that makes her gasp for breath. His mouth is everywhere, her nipples, her throat, her ear, then covering her mouth to catch her helpless moaning. She digs her heels into his back, tangles her fingers in his hair; with an urgent groan he presses her deeper into the mattress. For a little while she’s lost to rising sensation, his short, sharp thrusts, the sweat of his skin and hers together as she draws him closer in her arms. He’s beautiful. He’s everything, wrapped up here in her grasp, pressing her down beneath his warm weight, rocking into her as though he can reach deeper and deeper without ever pulling back.

Then he’s shoving his face into her shoulder with a shocked cry and then a long, wavering moan like he’s on the downward swoop of a roller coaster; he trembles in her arms, spilling hot inside her, and she kisses his ear and his cheek and his neck. “Barry. That’s it, babe. That’s so good. That’s perfect.”

“Lup,” he whimpers into her throat, then into her mouth, kissing her with new urgency. “Lup. Lup. I’m still... _fuck_ , that was…” He thrusts his hips uncertainly, panting.

She clenches around him, shivers at the sound he makes. “Yeah. Yeah, there’s more where that came from.” With a twist of her hips she starts to roll them over; Barry obliges, flopping onto his back and breathing fast, watching her with wide eyes. She leans down to kiss his dazed expression, guides his arms up and his hands around the bedposts. When he groans and clenches them there, she kisses him again and loops the black rope around his wrists.

He squirms against her, flushed all the way down his chest, and he shouts when she tweaks his nipples. Slowly, slowly she tips back until the angle of his cock gives her a sharp shock of pleasure, and then she lingers there, grinding her hips into the feeling. All the time Barry is watching her, his shocked expression turning back to hunger, his arms flexing like he wants to tear loose just to touch her. _Gods_ , she wants him to touch her, and just _thinking_ about his fingers on her clit, or maybe his warm wet tongue…. She clenches her hands on Barry’s thighs, startled to find herself falling, a cry ripped from her throat as she comes in overwhelming waves.

Her eyes slide closed and she can’t quite force them open yet, trembling with aftershocks even as need rises up stronger than before; beneath her, Barry bucks and shudders, and spills again with moan clenched between his teeth.

It’s impossible to stay still; she can’t control the little pulses of her hips with Barry’s, but she can drag her eyes open to find his. He looks desperate; he looks overwhelmed. With herculean effort she pulls away and Barry whines as the air of the room touches his slick cock, still hard, flushed even darker and twitching. Lup is throbbing from waist to knees, and her hips keep rolling of their own accord, into the empty air. Then she presses Barry’s legs wider, curls down to kiss the inside of his thigh, runs her nose and parted lips along the side of his erection. “ _Lup_ ,” he begs.

“Green?” she breathes against his skin.

“ _Green_.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I love you,” he replies, curling to look at her between his legs, and he’s perfect, so she slides her mouth around him. Deep first, as deep as she can go, tasting herself on his skin; then she pulls back to suck gently on the head, wrapping a hand around the rest. She’s so fucking wet still, and she gathers it on her fingers, presses it to the pucker of Barry’s ass.

He sucks in a breath and lets it out on a sharp groan. “Green, Lup, _please—_ ”

One finger, gently, then two. Then lube from the bottle on the table while he begs for her, and three fingers to reward him. The pitch of his moaning rises to wordless shouts, more urgent with every press of her fingertips. Her skin feels like it’s on fire now, crawling with need, but she doesn’t want to stop; his cock is velvety and slick on her tongue, and he’s straining against the ropes and her fingers, and she knows if she just keeps going she’ll get to watch him come harder than he ever has in his fucking life.

Then he _looks_ at her again down the line of his fuzzy chest and straining abdomen, looks at her like she’s water in the fucking desert, holds her eyes as his mouth drops open with a disbelieving groan. He comes in a salty spurt on her tongue, every muscle tensed, comes until there’s nothing left for her to swallow and then keeps shuddering through it. Trapped between the gentle curl of her fingers and the soft suction of her mouth he writhes, until he’s lost his breath, until he tugs his wrist free from the rope to tap out against her shoulder. She pulls back, gripping his knees and panting, and he’s still watching her.

They breathe together, and every place his skin touches hers is on fire, and it’s not enough. She can hear a soft whining, then realizes it’s coming from her own throat; Barry pulls loose his other hand, covers hers with both of his. “Green?” he asks softly, stroking her knuckles.

“ _Green_ ,” she breathes, feeling like she might cry or burst into flames at the gentle touch of his fingers, his calves shifting alongside hers.

“Lay back,” he says, tugging her down as he sits up. She follows, arching, spreading her thighs in a silent plea; he leans down to kiss her, strokes lightly along the insides of her arms from elbow to wrist. A moment later she’s tied, the rope cool against the fire of her skin.

“ _Please_ ,” she tells him, because all other words are gone. He smiles like the sun and kisses her again, one hand curving along her shoulder, the other sliding down her body with painful slowness. A detour around the curve of her breast makes her whimper into his mouth; his palm along the rise of her belly is torturous. Then his fingertips slide through her pubic hair, delve up and down the wet folds of her labia. With careful pressure, at last, at last he touches where she wants him most, and she sobs with the relief of it even as her whole body strains against his hand.

“Open your eyes.” She didn’t realize she’d closed them, and when she drags them open again Barry is right there, so close she can feel the hot wash of his breath on her cheek. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he tells her as his fingers press and flicker, and she tries to tell him she loves him but all that comes out is a wordless moan. She’s so close, so close to something, to everything, to being dragged under by a huge and crashing wave; he must see it in her eyes because his hand slides lightly away just as she’s reaching for it, drawing wet down the length of her inner thigh.

Thwarted and aching she arches toward him, and he bends to kiss her ear. “Green?” he whispers, and she shudders.

“ _Green,_ ” she pants, turning her face toward him, tipping her whole body closer to his tantalizing skin. She’s floating, burning, safe under his hands even as she’s crying out for what she needs. Then he presses his flat fingers between her legs, rolls her clitoris in an aching circle and she clamps her thighs shut to hold him there. Trapped, every tiny motion he makes draws her closer until she’s frantic, whimpering and searching for his mouth; he gives it to her, warm and steady, even as his hand once again draws inexorably away.

She bites his lip and sobs into his mouth, splays her thighs and tips them toward his body in helpless supplication; with a soft sound he slides his thigh between hers, his cock half hard again against her hip. Urgently she ruts against him, curls around him, but it’s not enough. “Bar,” she manages, a breathless plea shaped to his name, and his wayward hand slides between them again.

Now he presses harder, rubs her faster, and the shock of it rises and rises until she might actually fly apart. He doesn’t slow or change when she shouts at each new height she didn’t know she could reach, drives her on until she’s screaming with it, mouth pressed to the meat of his shoulder. She comes in shocking jolts, voice high and strangled, and he doesn’t stop; suspended on a knife’s edge, she spasms against him and comes again, or maybe it’s all one continuous, endless feedback loop of pleasure until everything else is burned away. When her thrashing arms come loose from the ropes, she grips two handfuls of Barry’s perfect ass and pulls him _hard_ against her, hears her own shocked screams still muffled against his skin. Barry gives a pained grunt in her ear and comes again against her hip, and at last his fingers ease up. Instead he slides his hand down, cups her, strokes her throbbing hole with a gentle fingertip and presses steady and slow with the heel of his hand. Her hips jolt against him in involuntary pulses and at last she tips her head back to shout her relief, coming down or maybe still coming as the searing intensity levels off. Barry propped up over her and trembling with the effort, softly mouthing at her throat and murmuring as she rubs herself against him. When his strength gives out at last and he slumps his full weight onto her, she wraps her arms and legs tight around him and peppers his sweating face with kisses. “Barry, Barry, baby, oh gods…”

“Yeah,” he breathes, only barely more coherent. Finally he slides his hand from between her legs, and she can’t possibly come again but she still whines softly at the loss; instead he shifts and adjusts, tucking his now-soft, possibly sore cock in along the swollen wet folds of her. It’s breathtakingly intimate, wrapping herself around him, their skin touching everywhere it can, all her nerves still alight with the memory of ecstasy. The fire is fading now, leaving just the glowing embers behind.

“I love you so much,” she says, because there aren’t other words for what she’s feeling. He kisses her ear, giggles.

“I love _you_ so much. Shit, Lup, that was...thank you.” Somehow one of his hands has wound up beneath her, curled gently around the back of her neck; the other strokes along her side in a soothing rhythm. Slowly, reluctantly, she loosens her octopus grip on him and tips them over onto their sides, curls against him and tangles their legs together. Now she can see his face again at last, flushed and happy and still a little dazed, and she just has to kiss him.

He kisses back slow and quiet, cradling her, stroking her back and her hip and the swell of her ass with a sort of tired reverence. He touches her like he can’t believe he’s been granted this, like she’s precious and rare, but he’s the miracle. It’s astounding that he wants her, that he loves her, that he’s _here_ when nearly everyone she’s ever known is long dead behind them.

She falls asleep there, safe and spent with her ear against Barry’s steady heartbeat.

***

It’s still dark when she wakes, and immediately she smells oranges; suddenly it’s the best, most appetizing smell to ever grace her nose, and she rolls toward it. “Babe?”

“Here,” Barry says, and presses a slice to her lips. She sucks it down with a delighted groan, then pries her eyes open. Barry is grinning at her with orange juice shining on his mouth and his chest, and the fingers he waves in her direction. “The best, right? Here, have some grapes too.”

He reaches down off the edge of the bed and then presses a handful of grapes into her palm. She props herself up a little higher against his shoulder and the pillows, and shoves the grapes all into her mouth at once.

“ _Gods,_ ” she moans. “These are almost as good as sex.”

“Drink some water too,” he tells her, reaching for the bottle on the nightstand. She tackles him instead, putting her tongue to the sticky drips of juice on his collarbone.

“ _You_ drink some water,” she mumbles, sighing at the taste of his skin.

His breath hitches, and he strokes her hair back and lightly rubs the tip of her ear. “Are you still…”

She shakes her head against his chest, then stretches up to taste his mouth instead. “Just like the taste of you a whole lot, Bluejeans.”

He curses feelingly into her mouth and wraps his arms around her, and they forget about the water for a while.

***

When she wakes again, it looks like afternoon outside the window and Barry is still asleep underneath her. She feels clearer now, rested and lucid and satisfied. And, she discovers as she reluctantly rolls off of Barry and out of the bed, _sore_. Getting to her feet, she twists and stretches out the stiffness, finally chugs half a bottle of water, devours two rolls and some more orange slices from the basket. When she turns to the mirror on the back of the door, she’s startled and delighted by what she sees; fully debauched-looking bed hair and traces of smeared lipstick still on her mouth, light marks on her wrists from the ropes and on her neck from Barry’s teeth. She looks like she had the best lay of her life, and she can’t help but grin at herself. Then there’s a sleepy groan from the bed, and Barry’s levering himself to his feet and wrapping his arms around her, tucking his chin over her shoulder.

“I feel like I ran a marathon,” he says, groggy but cheerful. Lup turns her face to kiss the corner of his eye.

“If marathons felt like that, I’d run one.”

“Mmmm,” he replies, pressing up against her back, warm and soft and yawning. “Yeah, me too.”

She covers his hands with her own, links their fingers together; he nuzzles into the side of her neck. “Come on, babe,” she says, giving him a little bump with her hips. “Let’s find your glasses and have some lunch. And a shower.”

“A shower?” he asks, nosing at the patch of skin where her ear meets her neck. “Or a _shower_?”

She tips her head back with a soft sigh. “Barry, love of my life...if you can get it up again, I will gladly fuck you on any surface in this house. But we have to check out by one. Also, I can hear your stomach growling from here.”

“Lunch first,” he agrees, but he still nips at her earlobe with a little chuckle.

***

It’s nearly two by the time they make it back to the Starblaster, clean and dressed and mentally preparing comebacks for the inevitable ribbing that follows an off-ship date night. They find Taako first, in the kitchen; he’s been baking, which means he was worried. Her dingus brother.

“Hey,” she says in greeting, setting the picnic basket down on the table. “Thanks for the food.”

He whirls, surprised, with a bowl of batter in his arms. “Oh! Hey. No problemo,” he says, giving them both a onceover with the least subtlety possible. “So...everything…?” He gives a thumbs up with a questioning eyebrow.

Lup grins and gives a thumbs up back. Then she curls her other hand into a circle and thrusts her thumb into it as lewdly as possible; Taako recoils and spins away with a disgusted shriek, and Barry drops his head onto her shoulder and guffaws.


End file.
